


When I Can't Breathe, It's Your Touch I Seek

by kuromantic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Sakusa Kiyoomi, pouring tea for your not-quite-crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuromantic/pseuds/kuromantic
Summary: Atsumu doesn't get anxiety attacks. He's the antonym to the word "anxious". There's no possible way it could happen to him, out of all people.But when it does, Sakusa is there to help him out.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 407





	When I Can't Breathe, It's Your Touch I Seek

**Author's Note:**

> wow it's been so long since I posted anything here!! *shields myself from daggers of criticism* 
> 
> anyway I thought a sakuatsu comfort fic would be sweet, so here it is!

Sharing a room with Sakusa may be the worst thing Atsumu has ever done to him, even though it was decided by neither of them. As soon as they had set foot into the hotel room, Sakusa had drawn a physical line with tape, indicating that Atsumu was  _ not  _ to set foot into his portion of the room. The tape had been taken off, once Atsumu proved to be respectful of his boundaries for once. It may have been out of fear, who knows. Sakusa didn’t care. 

But now, Atsumu is used to it. As long as he doesn’t bother Sakusa to the point of him snapping, or eat anywhere near the beds, he can keep him happy. So he’s sprawled out on his bed, scrolling aimlessly through twitter and kicking his legs in the air. 

“Atsumu, I’m going to take a bath first.” 

Sakusa calls out to him, and Atsumu responds with an affirmative groan. “Go on, not stopping you.” They have a match in two days, but meanwhile, they have some time to practice and enjoy their limited free time at and around the hotel. 

Atsumu taps on his own twitter profile. For a volleyball player, he has quite the online presence. His looks factor into it, but there’s the simple fact that he’s more internet savvy than most. He knows what gets people engaged, what people will talk about, what will trend. 

And so, inevitably, he sees what people say about him. Not everything, but enough to have it in the back of his mind. On a near-constant basis. He’s handsome, he’s charming, sometimes a dumbass who tries too hard. 

_ Isn’t Atsumu off his game since this season? I feel like he should be switched out. For the sake of the team. He’ll just bring everyone down.  _

_ I knew him in middle school. He’s so full of himself. Nobody wanted to be friends with him, because he has such a shit personality.  _

_ To be honest, who needs him?  _

Atsumu lets out a laugh. It’s not like any one of these nameless people know a thing about volleyball. They’re just jealous. They wish they had half the respect and fame he does. 

So why does he let it get to him? 

He can’t take it anymore. He needs to know what people are saying. He types his name in the search bar, clicking on every prediction there is. The comments praising him go into his mind and right out. The negative ones stick like tar, until he’s covered in every bad thing people have to say about him. 

Suddenly, breathing doesn’t come easy to him. The heaviness on his tongue, the clench in his chest that knocks everything out of his lungs. He’s drowning in the deep, viscous liquid that chokes him up. 

Why? Why now, why him, why this? Atsumu doesn’t get anxious. Everyone knows that. He doesn’t care what people think. They’re all nothing compared to him. They’re the ones who need to shut up and learn their place. Shut up, shut up. 

His erratic heartbeat doesn’t settle. His chest feels wrong, and for a split second, he feels like he’s dying. His breaths are shallow, failing to get enough air into his lungs. He can’t breathe because he’s panicking. Or is he panicking because he can’t breathe? 

Whatever it is he’s suffering through, he hates it. It hurts in his chest, and stomach. He feels sick, and wrong. He’s insignificant. The faces of his teammates begin to pop into his head, and he can’t think of any of them missing him if he were to leave. He’s replaceable. 

There are tears in Atsumu’s eyes, threatening to spill out. He’s angry at himself, for succumbing to his illogical emotions. He doesn’t have the time to be feeling like this. If Sakusa sees him like this, he’ll surely think of him as weak. 

“...Atsumu?” 

It can’t be. Only a few minutes have passed. Sakusa’s baths always take at least half an hour. Atsumu glances at his phone, and notices how much time has actually gone by. He’s been breathing unevenly and panicking for more than twenty minutes. Maybe he’ll never return to normal. He feels like a freak. 

“Are you feeling unwell?” 

Atsumu slowly lifts his gaze. Sakusa doesn’t look disgusted or contemptuous. Instead, he seems almost concerned for him. Without knowing what to do, Atsumu nods hesitantly. 

Sakusa sits beside him, his damp hair wrapped in a small face towel. “What’s going on? Does it hurt somewhere?” 

Atsumu shakes his head. He wants to hold onto Sakusa, but there’s no way he could do that without getting swatted away. “I can’t remember how to breathe,” he curves his spine, grabbing the sheets as hard as he can. 

“You’re hyperventilating.” Sakusa lays a hand on Atsumu’s back. “Breathe in, and hold it. Let it out slowly.” He begins to rub up and down, talking to him calmly. Atsumu tries to follow his lead, holding his breath before exhaling. He’s confused at the sudden tenderness, but he isn’t complaining. 

“Omi-kun, I…” Atsumu murmurs, glancing at him with unfocused eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on. It’s scary.” 

Sakusa shushes him quietly. “Don’t talk. You have to breathe first.” 

In, out. In, out. Atsumu focuses on the touch on his back, breathing in time to it. His eyes glaze over, and Sakusa calms him down until he realizes he’s about to cry. 

“They were all saying so many things. I don’t know why it made me… feel like this. It’s so stupid. I’m stupid.” 

Sakusa squints at him, patting his back. “If you looked yourself up on the internet, that is a pretty stupid thing to do.”

Atsumu glares at Sakusa. He’s in the middle of something scary, and he has the audacity to be snarky. But he’s right. He’s not sure what he expected, really. “Whatever, asshole. What if I’m dying?” 

“You’re not dying. You had an anxiety attack.” Sakusa groans, all concern wiped from his face. Atsumu only blinks at him, confused. “Do you… not know what that is?” 

“Nope?” Atsumu shrugs. He exhales deeply, slowly managing to control his breathing. His heart is still thumping in his chest. Sakusa looks taken aback. “Is that a bad thing?”

Sakusa shrugs. “Well, you’re lucky you never had one before.” He stands up, flicking the kettle on. “I’m making tea.” 

It takes a moment for Atsumu to realize. Sakusa is doing this for him. His mouth pulls into a small smile. He’s cared for, even if Sakusa acts a bit assholish in doing so. 

Sakusa pours out some bitter green tea, and Atsumu realizes that he’s definitely not a tea bag kind of person. He should have expected that. “Here,” Sakusa hands Atsumu one of the yunomi cups he’d brought from home. 

“Woah. Omi-kun is really nice to me.” Atsumu sips on his tea, still slightly too hot. “Are you going to die? Don’t die, Omi-kun.” 

“You’re pushing it.” Sakusa scrunches his face at him. “Shut up and drink your tea.” 

“Wait, am  _ I  _ going to die? Is that why you’re nice to me?” 

Sakusa looks done. Extremely done. He would have probably slapped him over the head, if it weren’t for his dislike of touching people. But he had touched Atsumu back then, hadn’t he? 

“No, idiot. An anxiety attack isn’t going to kill you.” Sakusa huffs, his face incapable of deciding to look exasperated or worried. “...I get them too,” he mumbles, turning away so Atsumu won’t see the expression he’s wearing. 

Atsumu’s mouth hangs open. Sakusa is being vulnerable with him, and he doesn’t feel alone anymore. He realizes he said it to be comforting. 

“You get them too, Omi-kun?” Atsumu approaches it carefully, to make sure Sakusa isn’t getting the wrong idea about his curiosity. “Since when?” 

Sakusa pauses, and Atsumu worries for a moment that he’s said the wrong thing. But he opens his mouth, to his surprise. “Middle school. It happens maybe once in three months.” 

Atsumu’s eyes widen. “Even after you’ve joined this team? How do you keep it under control?” 

“I just… ride it out. In the bathroom.” Sakusa says, and Atsumu is surprised to only find out now. “It’s no big deal if you’re used to it. Don’t waste your concern.” 

Atsumu thinks about it. Even if Sakusa is used to it, anxiety attacks are still bad, from what he knows. Maybe Sakusa would be annoyed at him for his pity, but he still feels bad for him. 

“But wouldn’t it be better if you had someone there with you? Like you did for me just now.” He says. If Sakusa comforted him, it would be fair if he returned the favour. “I want to, Omi-kun.” 

Atsumu isn’t offering to make it equal and call it a day. He wants to become closer to Sakusa, and let him become comfortable enough to share his vulnerability. He extends his hand to Sakusa’s shoulder. 

Slowly, Sakusa nods his head. “Okay. I’ll ask for your help next time.” 

“Promise!” Atsumu says. He knows if he were in Sakusa’s place, his perfectionism would prevent him from calling for help. “You have to rely on me. I want to be there when you’re in pain.” 

Sakusa wrinkles his nose. “Ew. You’re cheesy.” He sighs fondly. “But I’ll promise, I know you’re not going to give me a choice.” 

“Excuse me? Did you just  _ ew  _ me?!” Atsumu exclaimes, offended only slightly. But he notices the smile floating on Sakusa’s lip. Sakusa would deny it’s a smile, but he can see it. “I’m trying to get closer to you, and this is the thanks I get.” 

He gets a confused stare from Sakusa. “You’re trying to get closer to me?” 

Atsumu splutters. He stutters out a response, and realizes he’s dug himself into a hole. He could have cracked a terrible joke, but it’s too late to pick himself up. 

“...Something wrong with that?” 

Sakusa collapses onto his bed, stretching his limbs out. “Well, I guess there isn’t. You could have picked a better moment to express that interest, though.” 

Atsumu pinches Sakusa’s hand. “Now you’re being picky!” He wrestles himself onto the bed, while Sakusa slaps his hand off. “God, you can be an asshole sometimes.” 

“You signed up for that much.” Sakusa grabs Atsumu’s hand, the two of them pinching each other until they stop and let their fingers intertwine. Atsumu laughs softly, squeezing Sakusa’s hand lightly. 

Atsumu stares at Sakusa, his eyes gazing over his two moles, his cheeks, his huge eyes like the glass ones in an expensive doll. “Your hair looks like wet seaweed.” He murmurs, and gets a well-deserved pillow to the face. “But you’re cute that way.” Another pillow. 

“I think you really need some help. I’m going to take you to Bokuto to have some sense spiked into you.” Sakusa says, but Atsumu can see the grin dancing on his face. 

“You’re smiling, Omi-kun! And… is that a blush I see? Hm?” 

Atsumu continues to tease Sakusa, who tries to stop him from closing the distance between them. “Get off! You’re damn heavy!” 

Laughter echoes in the room, most of it coming from Atsumu. Sakusa’s clothes are stretched from being pulled on, and there’s pinch marks on the back of Atsumu’s hand. They’re acting just like high schoolers, maybe even worse. They love it. 

**Author's Note:**

> sakusa: so what's the takeaway from this? 
> 
> atsumu: don't look yourself up on twitter. 
> 
> if you enjoy this, please come to talk to me on my twitter @/beefyjackal or my tumblr @/kuromantic! make sure to kudos and comment!


End file.
